Sway
by 00-edorjake-00
Summary: She could only take him in pieces, never as a whole. But sometimes the Earth's forces won't let you go until you take a good, hard look.


**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns Twilight, and I just make her characters do my bidding.**

First it was the hair. When he moved into the house across the street the only thing my five year old eyes could comprehend was his hair.

It was the exact same color of the penny I'd just fished out from between the couch cushions. It was so vibrant, and lively, a direct contrast to my dull brown strings that could never decide if they wanted to be straight or wavy.

As he moved towards the old Clary house it wasn't him I saw, but the hair. The hair is what moved me.

When school started one week later, I'd yet to actually meet the hair in person. I'd seen it as it walked beside its mother, played catch with its father, and even heard it scream when it fell from a tree. When the teacher decided to seat us together I retreated into myself.

How could she place little old me next to The Hair?

I couldn't say a word to it, and didn't that entire year. Instead I chose to watch from the shadows. We sat together, but that was the extent of our relationship. Our teacher, Mrs. Baker, attempted to open up the lines of communication between us, even going so far as to call my parents in; realizing quickly the problem did not lie in the sweet little boy with the unruly hair.

All of her hard work, and unceasing effort came to no avail. I was steadfast in my belief that I was unworthy to sit so close, breathe the same air, and touch the same rusty pencil sharpener as The Hair, so I didn't budge.

I found my much less extraordinary friends, whom I'd known since before I was born, and The Hair ran into the premature popular crowds arms, shot into popularity with its "super cool" cast, without looking back.

In a much too mature revelation for a five year old, I'd come to the conclusion that there would always be an invisible barrier between the two of us, whether it be man-made, or something predestined by the universe. We were meant to be close strangers.

Me and The Hair.

**\Sway/**

Sixth grade math was simultaneously the best and worst class of my life.

The worst because, once again, I was placed in close proximity to The Hair. The best, because I discovered two more things that made him perfect. The worst, because the more I found out about him, the greater the chasm between us grew. The best, because I got to stare at his back all day, and sometimes touch his hand when he passed papers to me over his shoulder. And the best and worst moment in my sixth grade career?

When he talked to me.

He was passing back papers when, me being me, failed to grab them and they all fell to the floor. I immediately left my seat and got on my knees to gather them, but when I lifted my gaze infinitesimally there were his hands again. And then he was speaking.

"Sorry about that. I thought you had it, and I let go too soon."

My eyes never left his hands.

I nodded, gathered my papers, and lifted myself back into my seat. I saw his hands grip the edge of his desk as he lifted himself up, and then breathed a sigh of relief.

There was his back again.

**\Sway/**

Eight grade was dinner at the Cullen household, his chest, and his lips.

My mother was on a gardening kick that year, and when Mrs. Cullen saw her working she immediately offered her assistance; claiming she'd gone through the same phase a couple years earlier.

In the blink of an eye a dinner was set between the two families, who regretted it took so long to really meet.

When I was told, I immediately began to plot my escape.

On the night of the dinner, I pressed a warm towel to my forehead for a couple of minutes before hopping underneath my comforter. When my mother came to make sure I was ready, and found me lying prostrate on my bed, she knew something was wrong.

She felt my forehead, as I predicted she would, before concluding that yes, I was indeed a little under the weather. My mother and father departed with a: "They'll be so sad you can't come. If you feel better during the night just walk on over. Okay, sweetheart?"

I nodded lethargically in response, knowing that would never happen.

About 45 minutes passed before I heard a knock on the door. I figured my parents were back early, and forgot their keys. But when I opened the door the person standing awkwardly on my porch wasn't my parents.

He stood with his fist raised: about to knock again. As soon as the door opened he pushed a plate that was wrapped in foil, but still released a mouthwatering smell, towards me.

All I could do was stare at the plate offered to me. So we stood awkwardly. I let my gaze wander to his chest. I'd never noticed just how nice a chest it was.

I was in the process of closing the door when he stuck his hand out, bring me to a stop.

"Don't you want to say something?"

I hesitated, still staring at his chest. It was rising and falling quickly. He'd either run here, or was angry. I wasn't one to bet, but I would put my money on the latter, although I couldn't know for sure without looking at his face, and that wasn't an option.

"Thankyou." I mumbled the words so fast they kind of slurred together. I went to shut the door again, but he stuck his foot out this time.

"Why don't you like me?"

I gasped loudly; loud enough for him to hear my surprise. How in the world could I explain that I _did_ like him? I liked him so much I'd never been brave enough to make eye contact with him. He fascinated me.

"I…" I began, "I'mgoingtobesick."

I pushed the door until he was forced to pull his foot away, and raced to the bathroom, where I gave the toilet what little food I had in my stomach.

When I was finally able to stand without my stomach turning, I walked gingerly towards the kitchen, but paused when I noticed the foil covered plate sitting right in the middle of our entryway. I realized in my haste to get to the bathroom I'd failed to lock the door.

I inched slowly towards the plate as if it were a scared child I was trying to calm. I bent hesitantly to pick up the plate, and was surprised when a piece of paper fluttered to the ground.

I could read the bold, almost girlish writing from my elevated level.

_Feel better. – E_

**\Sway/**

In comparison to all of the other years I had to deal with my bizarre, but entirely understandable infatuation, ninth grade was definitely the easiest to handle.

We had no classes together, and our schedules were so completely different I barely even saw him in the hallways, and the place I did see him often was always packed with people.

Apparently during the previous summer he discovered a love for running, and like everything else, he excelled at it.

He, unlike me and my friends, didn't have to worry about that awkward transition from middle to high school. The sports community of Forks High welcomed him in with open arms, and his popularity in sports resulted in his fame throughout the school. Of course.

I went to every home meet.

I discovered something about him that I'd taken for granted: his legs. They were solid, lightly brushed with hair, strong calves, and powerful looking thighs. He had the legs of Sisyphus, or Atlas. A man used to pushing himself, and using his own body to get things done.

As I said before, I wasn't the only person to recognize his skills on the track field. Every day you could hear his name on the announcements declaring personal records, district wide records, and tons of people across the entire state of Washington knew his name.

He was that good.

Every morning from the announcement, and all day from the students, you could hear his name. It was through everyone else's excitement over him that I took the time to think about his name.

Edward. Edward Cullen. Edward Anthony Cullen.

I looked up the meaning of all three of his names when I got home from school one evening. Edward roughly meant guardian or protector. Anthony meant praiseworthy, and Cullen meant good-looking boy.

Either Mr. and Mrs. Cullen knew what they were getting ahead of time, or their wishful thinking proved to be useful.

Edward Anthony Cullen. A praiseworthy, good-looking protector.

And the summer before eleventh grade, I knew that better than anybody.

**\Sway/**

A couple of months prior to June 19th I'd stumbled upon a little creek on the northeast side of our property.

I was making my way through the underbrush with two books, and a bottle of water when I spotted weird tracks.

I was pretty sufficient at reading tracks, so I could see it was in the wolf family, but they were too big. No wolf had those monster paws. Though I felt a little uneasy, I continued further into the forest. I relaxed as soon as the sound of trickling water reached my ears. I sat underneath a tree and opened one of my books.

I was only two paragraphs in when I heard a twig snap.

Three things happened in quick succession. First, from out of the woods came the biggest wolf I'd ever seen. It was so big I questioned if it may have been a bear. It had deep brown fur that looked black until it stepped into one of the few patches of sunlight. Its teeth were bared slightly, as if it wasn't sure whether or not it should feel threatened.

Second, Edward Cullen appeared on the other side of the thin creek.

Third, I fainted.

I'm not sure how long I was out, but when I awoke Edward Cullen's face was peering down at me. I was looking at his face, his whole face, for the first time. One second I was in shock at the sight of his face so close to my own, and the next I was on my feet looking around wildly, having just remembered why I'd blacked out in the first place.

"Did you…did you see that…that thing? It was…it was huge! Where did it go? What happened? How did you know I was here? Are you okay? What did you do?" As I spoke I realized I was in a frenzy at this point.

When he failed to respond to any of my questions I turned to face him, and that's when I noticed his eyes were green. They were _green_. They were so green it seemed like someone plucked a leaf from one of the surrounding trees and placed it in his eye.

Except not, because that would hurt.

The point is, they were so green it seemed unreal, and it made me wonder why I spent all my time focusing on things like his back and his legs. I was obviously insane.

"Which one do you want me to answer first?" Edward said with a smirk.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "How about you just answer whichever one really spoke to you?" I said, sarcasm dripping with every word. "Then answer them all."

He did that one eyebrow thing that only cool people can do, before answering. "Well let's see…yes, I saw "that thing" and it _was_ "huge". I didn't know you were here. I was just walking, and there you were about to get attacked. And I'm fine."

I had a feeling my eyes would be in a perpetually glaring state the more time I spent with Edward Cullen. "You skipped a couple of questions." I accused.

"Did I?" He responded breezily.

He proceeded to walk out of the small clearing, and back the way he came. I realized suddenly that something had shifted in our relationship, so I followed him.

"What were you doing out here?" I asked.

"The same thing you were I imagine. Enjoying nature." I gave him the once over.

"You were enjoying nature in dress pants, and loafers? That's a little hard to believe." I said, not even pretending to hide my skepticism.

Edward sighed. He sighed! The most beautiful sound in existence. It had to be. "There are a lot of people at my house right now, and I needed a break." He explained.

I nodded in understanding. I was well used to the claustrophobic feeling of sharing a house with multiple people, even if it was just my parents, and their myriad of personalities.

We walked in silence a little longer before I choked out a thank you. "I mean, who knows what would have happened if you hadn't shown up. I'd probably be wolf chow." Edward and I reached the break in the trees that brought us back in between two houses on my street.

He still hadn't responded, so I was turning toward my own house when he grabbed my arm.

"You know how you can thank me?" I silently shook my head. "Come with me to my house. I have a feeling you'll be a good buffer between me and the birthday festivities."

He gave me no time to respond. He took my hand in his, and pulled me towards his house. When I'd left my home earlier I'd failed to notice all of the cars lining the street. Now that I had a little more information I could only assume all of those cars were for him.

As I was mulling these thoughts over in my head, we'd managed to circle his house. We were in the back, and Edward was pulling me up a set of stairs that I assumed led into his bedroom. My parents had the same setup.

"I don't really…" I began, but he didn't let me finish.

He pushed me gently, but steadily into the wall. "Bella," I had to repress a shiver as he said my name for the first time. "I just saved your life after you've done nothing but ignore me for years. Why can't you do this one thing for me?"

I looked down, ashamed. He was right. I kind of owed him big time.

"Fine. I'll do this, but I refuse to enjoy myself."

"Don't worry. You're not the only one." And with that he pulled me through the door, and I was officially in Edward Cullen's house, more specifically, his bedroom.

I didn't really get to snoop around the way I wanted to, because Edward pulled me through so quickly, but I did get a good glimpse of a cabinet of trophies that was practically bursting.

"When we get downstairs don't freak out or anything, okay?" Edward whispered to me.

I could only stare back at him confused. "Why would I freak out?"

He sighed (I would never get enough of that sound). "There are a…fair amount of people down there. And they're…uh…really happy to be here."

Another thing I'd learned about Edward. He could be decidedly cryptic about things when he wanted to be, but I figured there was nothing I could do about it now. Taking a deep breath, I took his proffered hand and descended the steps, standing slightly behind him.

We were about to descend the last set of steps when I got my first glance at the crowd.

Edward was also a liar.

I squeezed his hand until he turned towards me, still making his way down the stairs. "Edward, a 'fair amount of people' is ten or fifteen, this is a mob." There were at least fifty people crowded into his downstairs.

"Remember what I said." He murmured, moving his lips only slightly.

Right. Don't freak out. I remembered the second part of his earlier statement too late. We were at the last three steps before we set foot on the shining hardwood floors, when people started screaming.

"Happy Birthday Edward!"

"Oh you must be so excited!"

"Edward! How does it feel to finally be seventeen?"

"Edward smile! We're taking a picture!"

"Oh Edward! How you've grown!"

And a multitude of just plain old, "Edward!"

The whole time he never released my hand. Initially I thought he was doing it for my sake, knowing how uncomfortable I'd be, but then I noticed the tense set of his jaw, even as he smiled, and realized I wasn't the one squeezing his hand in a death grip.

Edward was nervous.

That little tidbit forced me to look at Edward in a new light. In my head he'd always been invincible; incapable of being ruffled in the slightest. Finding out the obvious, but unwelcome fact shook me to the core.

I barely even noticed the stares, and quite a few glares, the pair of us were receiving.

"My mother is coming. Act natural."

"Edward, I don't even know what natural is to me anymore." I truly didn't. If you'd asked me the day before if holding Edward Cullen's hand would be like breathing; effortless and essential, I would have laughed in your face, and done my "you're ridiculous" dance. But here I was today, with my hand clasped in his, and I wasn't going out of my head with worry, it's just how it was supposed to be.

He opened his mouth to respond, but it was too late. All that is Esme Cullen descended on us in a flurry of soft linen, warm colors, and sweet perfume.

"Oh my! This can't be Bella Swan!" Esme exclaimed. "You must have sprouted up eight inches since I saw you last." This was definitely possible considering Esme and I hadn't had a real interaction since the seventh grade book fair, when she packaged my purchases.

"So this is what took you so long, Edward. Don't think I didn't notice your convenient disappearance when the guests started arriving." Esme continued.

Edward had the decency to look chagrined, and I noticed during our conversation with his mother, his grip on my hand had relaxed a bit.

Looks like we've got ourselves a Momma's Boy.

If she'd noticed I hadn't responded to her effusive greeting, she didn't mention it. Instead she gently nudged us towards the formal dining room. Apparently there was to be a dinner.

"Edward," I whispered, "I don't think I'm dressed for this." Only just noticing how well everyone else dressed. I wore jeans, and one of my father's old flannel button downs. And I was fairly certain I still had leaves in my hair from my rendezvous with the forest floor.

"You look beautiful. It's fine." He responded. That effectively shut me up.

His mother escorted us to the head of the table, and sat Edward in the big chair on the end. I had a feeling she was going to place me somewhere else, but then she noticed our hands were still pressed tightly together, so she placed me in the seat to his right. It was only after she fluttered away to help seat other people, that he released my hand.

I was both relieved, and a little distraught. I attempted to cover my grimace by paying extra attention to the process of bringing my chair closer to the table. When my knee accidentally bumped his underneath the dark wood he quickly placed his glass of water back down, and settled his hand on my knee, and kept it there though the entirety of dinner.

Two hours later Edward was walking me home.

The dinner wasn't nearly as bad as I'd been expecting. The food was amazing, and the people weren't completely unbearable. Edward slowly began to unwind as the night progressed, and kept me laughing with his running commentary on people and their conversations.

Then there were the toasts.

I don't know whose idea it was, but it was without a doubt the most entertaining part of the evening. People would stand up throughout the dinner and tell their favorite memory of Edward, or why they thought he was the best, and there was even one girl who gave an in-depth analysis of his running style.

The whole time his hand never left my knee.

A couple of times during the dinner, people would start a conversation with me and before I could tense up he would give a slight squeeze, just enough to remind me he was there, and I was okay.

We'd reached the beginning of my walkway when I realized something. How would this night affect our friendship? _Were_ we friends now? I could proudly admit I wasn't afraid, or even threatened by him any longer. So even if nothing changed on the outside, everything had changed on the inside.

"Things should change now. Don't you think?" Edward's voice rang out in the empty yard. Our minds were either deeply connected, or I'd spoken out loud.

"I don't know what you mean." I said, fishing for a little more information lest I embarrass myself.

"Yes you do. Obviously something about me makes you uncomfortable Bella. And I hope that at some point during the night you relaxed a little bit around me." Edward was also a rambler. "I mean it seemed like it, but I don't really know you that well. It could be that's just how you cope with uneasiness, and I may have actually just scarred you for life." He was running his hands through his hair now, and his cheeks were turning a light pink. "I didn't think through much when I set Roscoe out into the forest. I definitely didn't you'd faint, that's for sure."

If in that moment we were in a movie the whole scene would pause, and the narrator, me in this case, would pop out and address the audience. I would say: "Did he just say what I think he did?" The audience would nod happily; waiting impatiently to see what I would do. I would then pop back into the frame, and slap Edward Cullen.

"Are you telling me you're the one that set that…that thing after me?" I watched with satisfaction as a red handprint appeared on his left cheek.

His mouth popped open into an oval, and I could see him try to backtrack mentally. I'd pegged him for a "deny deny deny" type of guy, but once again he shattered all of my preconceived notions.

"You weren't supposed to freak out like that when you saw him! He's really friendly. I was just going to pretend he got out, and I don't know, thank you for finding him?"

"You have a pet monster-wolf and you say he's friendly?" I said, not even bothering to hide my incredulity.

"Roscoe's not a wolf, Bella. He's a dog, and yeah he might have some kind of wolf in his lineage, but he isn't one himself."

"But I saw his tracks!" I argued.

"Well you might want to work on your track-reading skills." Edward replied, entirely too calm for my taste.

"None of this explains why you sicked 'Roscoe' on me in the first place."

"It doesn't?" Edward asked. I stared at him blankly until he continued. "Bella, you've kept your distance from me since kindergarten, and I've never known why. Do you know how frustrating that is? And what's even worse, you're always there! Always watching."

This was steadily going downhill for me. I could feel my cheeks heat up. The whole thing was made all the more embarrassing because it was true. I _was_ always watching. I was a stalker. I was Edward Cullen's stalker.

While I was breaking down on the inside, Edward was still talking.

"You know what staring does to a guy, Bella? It drives him insane. You make me insane!"

I could feel tears bubbling up, but he was still talking.

"And it's the best feeling of my life to know you want me just as bad as I want you. But it sucks when you won't even give me the time of day."

Wait. What?

Without thinking I flung my arms around him, and held on tight. And smiled widely through the tears that had managed to escape while my life was crumbling around me, when he wrapped his arms just as tightly around me.

He laughed softly as he nestled his face into my hair. "You're utterly ridiculous Bella. Do you know that? How often does a guy basically tell a girl he loves her, and she ends up crying on his shoulder?"

A fresh round of tears escaped my eyes. I couldn't even believe this was real. How often did a girl snag the guy she'd obsessed over her whole life?

I didn't really know what this meant for us, but as I pulled away from his shoulder, and leaned forward to meet his lips, nothing really mattered,

As we kissed, I felt a little piece of myself latch firmly into place. And though I'd never really considered myself broken, as I met his eyes after our lips disconnected, I knew I was finally whole.

**\Sway/**

**A/N What a journey! Tell me all about my little one-shot. Likes? Dislikes? Neutral thoughts? I'll even take a sassy little emoticon.**

**Happy to be back,**

**00-edorjake-00**


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